The Desert Rogues Part 1

by Susan Mallery

  She hadn’t thought he could continue to hurt her, but she was wrong. Another knife wound cut through her heart. “I see.”

  “No, you don’t.” He started to stand but the guards on either side of him pushed him back to his knees. He frowned at them, then returned his attention to her.

  “Sabrina, I was wrong from the beginning. I shouldn’t have kept the truth from you. My excuse is simple arrogance. I had read things about you, things that made me not like you. I had agreed to the betrothal, but I had second thoughts about the bride. I wondered if the alliance with Bahania would be payment enough.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she muttered.

  He shrugged. “Then I began to spend time with you. I learned the truth about your heart and your soul. I knew then that I would be proud to call you mine. I wanted to teach you a lesson—how to be a docile wife—yet I was the one who changed.”

  He paused and shifted on his knees. She thought that his bindings looked uncomfortably tight, then scolded herself for caring. Kardal deserved whatever happened to him.

  “I love you,” he said bluntly. “I who had thought men were above such emotions have realized you are my moon and stars. My father has loved my mother for thirty-one years, despite being apart from her. I fear that I would suffer the same fate should you cast me aside.”

  Too much had happened too fast, Sabrina thought, still not sure what to believe. Her heart ached, desperate to be convinced by his words, but her spirit was not so sure.

  “Kardal, how do I know this isn’t just some way for you to get what you want?” she asked.

  “You don’t,” he said simply. “So I ask that you refuse my proposal. Then I will be banished.”

  Her lips parted. “What? You would leave the city?” The desert? The place he loved more than anything in the world?

  “Yes. Once banished I would come to you and spend the rest of our days convincing you that you are my one true love.” He smiled, then. A warm, open, loving smile that began to heal the wounds of her heart. “I can live without the city, but I could never survive without you.”

  Sabrina took a step toward him, then paused. What should she do? She so wanted to believe him, but could she?

  “Follow your heart,” Cala said, stepping into Givon’s embrace and holding him close. “Sabrina, trust what you know to be true.”

  “Don’t marry me,” Kardal said. “Please. Have them send me away. I swear I will come to you. I will prove it all. I will worship you as the sun worships the City of Thieves.”

  “Kardal…”

  “Sabrina, you were right. I didn’t mean to play you for a fool, but that is what happened. You deserve to be sure of me and what I tell you here today. Banish me. Banish me and I will love you forever.”

  His dark gaze seemed to see into her soul.

  “You know we belong together,” he continued, his voice low and heated. “We are too much alike to ever be happy with anyone else. Let me prove my love.”

  “No!”

  Sabrina shook her head, then turned and hurried from the room. There was too much information. Too many questions. Banish Kardal? Have him lose everything to prove his love?

  She reached her quarters and slipped inside. Footsteps sounded in the hall, then her father stepped into the room.

  “This is not a bluff,” Hassan said. “Givon and I will have him banished.”

  “I don’t want that,” she told him. “I just want to be sure.”

  “What would you have him do to convince you? Give up his heart’s desire?”

  Which is what Kardal had done. She thought of the beautiful city and how happy he was there. She thought of all the times he’d come to speak with her, seeking her advice, sharing secret fears with her. These were not the actions of a man who didn’t care. He’d been arrogant and stupid. He was a prince—and a man—why was she surprised?

  “I love him,” she said, impulsively hugging her father. For the first time in her life, he hugged her back.

  “I’m glad. After all, you could be pregnant with his child.”

  Sabrina froze. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Pregnant? With Kardal’s baby?

  Joy filled her. Joy and a certainty that eased the pain in her heart and made her feel as if she could fly. She loved him. Cala had been right. It was time for her to follow her heart.

  She ran across the room and opened the first of the small trunks she’d brought with her. Inside were dozens of priceless treasures.

  “They’re in here somewhere,” she said, digging through the gold, diamonds and other precious stones.

  She opened a second trunk, then third. Finally she crowed in triumph and pulled out a pair of slave bracelets. They were solid gold and intricately carved. They were also much larger than hers—designed to fit a man’s wrists and forearms.

  Hassan raised his eyebrows. “I am most impressed with your creativity.”

  “Thank you.”

  Still smiling she hurried back to the villa’s foyer. Everyone was still there, including Kardal who remained on his knees. She crossed to him and motioned to the guards to release him.

  “I have decided,” she said.

  Kardal waited until his wrists were unbound, then he rose and stood in front of her. She held out the slave bracelets. Kardal looked at her, then at the gold symbols of servitude. Without saying anything, he put his arms out straight in front of him. She locked the bracelets in place.

  “Just as a reminder that I could have had you banished,” she said, watching his expression. “Although I’ve decided to marry you instead.”

  Love and pleasure lit his eyes. He touched her cheek. “Most couples prefer to exchange rings of some kind.”

  “We’re not most couples,” she told him.

  He pulled her close and kissed her. “I will spend the rest of my life proving myself to you, Sabrina. I am deeply sorry that I hurt you. I did not intend to make you feel that I didn’t care.”

  “I know.”

  “Then you forgive me?”

  “I love you. I don’t have a choice.”

  He gazed into her eyes. “You had one today. I would have come for you regardless of my fate.”

  “I know, but now you can have me and the city.”

  “I have loved the city all my life,” he admitted, “but you will always possess my heart.”

  His lips touched hers again. Behind them she heard Cala sigh.

  “I am relieved that is over,” her father said. “I really thought she might banish him. And then what would we have done?” He cleared his throat. “Now I must go home and deal with the rest of my family.”

  Sabrina raised her head and looked at her father. “Are my brothers all right? Is something wrong?”

  Hassan smiled. “Not in the way you mean. I have four sons in need of wives. It is past time they married and still they resist me.”

  “I could never resist you,” Kardal whispered in her ear. “Are you ready to go home, my desert bird? We have a wedding to plan.”

  She smiled at him. “We have a couple of other things to do as well. One of them is to find the keys to these slave bracelets.”

  He laughed. “I will love you forever, Sabrina. I will be as constant as the desert, for all of our lives and into the next.”

  “That works for me,” she told him.

  They turned and headed out into the bright morning light, ready to begin the adventure of their lives.

  The Sheikh and the Virgin Princess

  by Susan Macias-Redmond

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Contents

  Chapter One<
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  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter One

  “What kind of stupid does it take not to want to be a princess?” Cleo asked.

  Zara Paxton ignored both her sister and the question. Stupid or not, what she wanted more than anything was to turn tail and run. This had been a really bad idea from the start.

  “The mosaics on the east wall date back to the early 1100s,” the tour guide intoned as she pointed to the Bahanian palace wall covered with small tiles in a rainbow of colors. A few tiles had chipped over the past thousand years, but the majority were in place, detailing a lovely landscape of the ocean and a lush island in the distance.

  “The scene is of Lucas-Surrat,” the guide continued. “The crown prince of the island has always been a member of the Bahanian ruling family.”

  “How can you not want to know?” Cleo asked in a low voice. “Come on, Zara, take a chance.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Zara pointed out. “We’re not talking about your life.”

  “I wish we were. I would love to find out I’m the illegitimate daughter of royalty.”

  Zara hushed her sister, then glanced around to make sure that no one in their tour group had overheard Cleo’s comments. Fortunately the others were more interested in what the guide had to say than any conversation between the two women.

  Zara tugged on Cleo’s arm, pulling her to a stop. “Don’t say anything,” she said urgently. “We’re not sure what’s true. So I have a few letters. They don’t mean the king is really my father.”

  Cleo didn’t look convinced. “If you don’t think there’s a possibility, what are we doing here?”

  Zara didn’t have an answer for that. The “here” in question was a public tour of the famous royal palace of Bahania. Cleo had suggested they simply announce themselves at the front gate and demand to be let in. Zara had opted for the more subtle approach—hence the tour. If nothing else, she could get the lay of the land, so to speak. Her trip to Bahania had been impulsive, something she tried to avoid. Now that she was here, she was going to have to think through what she wanted to do.

  “You make me crazy,” Cleo muttered, trailing after their group. “All your life you’ve wanted to know who your father is. You finally get some information on the man and suddenly you get all scared.”

  Zara shook her head. “You make it sound cut-and-dried, and it isn’t. I thought my mother had an affair with a married man and that’s why she wouldn’t talk about my father. If it turns out he really is the king, then life is a whole lot more complicated. I’m not sure I want to be a part of all this.”

  “Which brings me back to my stupid remark,” Cleo said with a look of impatience. “Hello? This is your chance at the fairy tale, Zara. How many of us get to be transformed into a princess? Why on earth wouldn’t you jump at the chance?”

  “Because I—”

  “Princess Sabra! I did not know you had arrived.”

  Both women turned to the man who hurried toward them. He was slight, in his mid-thirties and wearing some kind of uniform.

  “I was told you would be arriving shortly. I had been watching for you, but must have missed you.” The man stopped in front of them and bowed slightly. “A thousand pardons.”

  Zara blinked. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not—”

  “I am new,” the man continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Please do not be angry. This way.”

  Before Zara could protest, the man grabbed her arm and hustled her down a long corridor—one that led away from the tour group. She heard Cleo’s footsteps as her sister hurried after her.

  “Zara? What’s going on?”

  “I have no idea.” She tried to free herself, but the little man’s grip was surprisingly strong. “Look, you’ve made a mistake. I’m not who you think I am. I’m with the tour group. We’re just tourists.”

  The man gave her a disapproving glance. “Yes, princess, but if you wanted a tour of the castle, you could simply ask your father, who is waiting for you even now.”

  Father? Zara’s stomach tightened. She had a bad feeling about all of this.

  They turned right, then left. She had a brief impression of large rooms, tile floors, beautiful statues and paintings, along with occasional glimpses of the blue Arabian Sea. Then they came to an oval foyer filled with half a dozen people. The man stopped and released her arm.

  “I have found Princess Sabra,” he announced to the milling crowd.

  Everyone turned to look at her. Conversation stilled. In the heartbeat of silence, Zara knew that something awful was about to happen.

  Her premonition proved true.

  A male voice yelled that they were imposters. People dove at them from all directions. Zara didn’t know what to do, and that indecision cost her breath when a large man threw himself at her. One second she was standing, the next she hit the hard, tiled floor with the impact of a train barreling into a brick wall.

  Air rushed from her body. Her head banged against something unforgiving and the room began to spin. The next thing she knew, she couldn’t breathe and there was a gun pointed at her temple.

  “Talk!”

  The voice commanded her obedience. Zara blinked and tried to suck in a breath. Her lungs wouldn’t cooperate. The spinning increased, fueled by panic. She moved—or at least made the attempt—but her body froze. She inhaled again and this time air seeped into her lungs. Again and again she drew breath until she was able to focus. It was then that she realized her body wasn’t frozen, it was pinned by a large, angry man with the coldest blue eyes she’d ever seen.

  Blue had always been her favorite color, she thought somewhat hysterically. It was the color of the sea and the sky. But the irises of this man held no warmth. Staring at him, she felt chilled down to her bones. Maybe even down to her soul.

  “Talk,” he repeated. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Zara Paxton,” she breathed.

  The pressure on her temple increased. She swallowed when she remembered the gun.

  “Are you going to shoot me?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  Everything she’d read about Bahania had told her that the country was safe, forward thinking and a perfect tourist destination. Perhaps the brochures had been wrong.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded, ignoring her question.

  “My sister and I were touring the castle. A man pulled us away and insisted we come with him.” She hesitated, not wanting to say that he’d called her Princess Sabra and had mentioned seeing the king. That sounded too far-fetched to be believed.

  Those cold blue eyes never wavered from her face. She didn’t doubt that he could read her every thought, so there was no need to go into detail. She noticed the man wore traditional Middle-Eastern garb, and that his Anglo features looked out of place.

  They were nestled together intimately, his legs pinning hers, his chest flattening her breasts. One of his hands rested on her throat where he could no doubt feel the galloping of her pulse.

  She licked her lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too,” the man muttered as he slid off her and got to his feet.

  Zara sat up slowly. She glanced around and saw that she was the center of attention—one of her least favorite things to be. Two burly guards were holding Cleo, but released her when the blue-eyed man instructed them to do so.

  Zara got awkwardly to her feet. She still felt a little shaky and afraid. Cleo rushed to her side and they held each other. Zara pushed up her glasses.

  “What happens now, Mr….” Her voice trailed off as she realized she didn’t know the man’s name.

&
nbsp; “Rafe Stryker.”

  He spoke several sharp commands in a language she didn’t recognize. The area cleared.

  “Come this way,” he said, and started walking without checking to see if they would follow.

  Zara had the idle thought that they could run for it, but where would they go? They were in a strange country, in a huge castle and she had no idea of the floor plan. As the guards had disappeared, it seemed unlikely that they were about to be arrested.

  She glanced at Cleo, who shrugged. Together the two women trailed after the man in the long robe and traditional headdress.

  He led them into a small office. After seating them in chairs, he perched on the corner of the desk and studied them both.

  “There’s been some kind of misunderstanding,” Zara said when the silence had stretched on for too long. “I was telling the truth before. My sister and I were on the tour, and suddenly we were dragged away. Then you and those guards attacked us. I’d like to know what’s going on.”

  Rafe Stryker rubbed his temple. “That’s what I’d like to know, as well. You two have any ID on you?”

  Zara and Cleo exchanged a look. Did they really want to turn their passports over to this man?

  “I’m not the bad guy here,” Rafe said, confirming Zara’s suspicions that he could read her mind. “I won’t take any documents out of this room. I simply want to make a few phone calls.”

  “I don’t think we have a choice,” Cleo said in a stage whisper. Her short blond hair was more spiky than usual, and the corners of her full mouth trembled.

  Zara nodded. She had been worried about a lot of things when they’d talked about coming to Bahania, but being attacked in the palace wasn’t one of them. What on earth was going on?